


The Blanket

by Louhime



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Introspection, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3907483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louhime/pseuds/Louhime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The curse may have changed their memories, may have changed their personalities, may have changed even their appearance but it could never truly change who they were meant to be.</p>
<p>Some things can't be changed, even by powerful magic. Like the bond between lovers or the memories of a newborns first breath. </p>
<p>Mary Margaret was about to find one of the cracks in her mask. An innocent blanket meant to swaddle a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blanket

**Author's Note:**

> Good evening, 
> 
> And welcome to my story. I hope you like it, I liked writing it and even thinking it up. I hope you wont be disappointed with your reading choice. Cause that means that I missed what I was trying to achieve. 
> 
> As always, comments, criticisms and kudos are all very welcome and not expected so feel free to indulge me or not. 
> 
> Much love, 
> 
> Lou. 
> 
> (I've not posted for ages, sorry, I have said I'm lazy)

Mary Margaret reached into the box and pulled out the knitted blanket.

“What a pretty blanket.” She whispered.

It was soft and warm to the touch, the perfect baby blanket. It brought warmth to her chest, something like pride, as if she had spent hours upon hours creating it to swaddle her own child. Like she had spent days, weeks, designing the pattern and choosing the wool and the ribbon to create the perfect gift for her first born.

Which was a strange thought to have since she’d never knitted in her life and children were lovely but not on her horizon, as she’d have to meet someone first.

As she held it close and lifted it to her nose she inhaled the powdery baby scent that clung impossibly to the decades old wool, she felt another flash of something. A half remembered idea of a dream. In half a heartbeat she felt as if she were another person, as though Mary Margaret was a mere illusion.

_She felt the excitement of realising she was creating a new life._

_She felt the nervousness of telling her One True Love that they were a family grown._

_She felt the nausea and aches of a changing body shadowed by a growing love for the strange little being inside of her._

_She felt hands cradling her new shape feeling the love they showed her._

_She remembered the decision to create something with her own two hands for her child that was theirs and theirs alone._

_She remembered the choices of fabrics and patterns and designs and deciding to knit, to weave the softest strands she could find together._

_She remembered the days where nothing helped the nausea or the swollen ankles but focusing on her gift made her problems fade for a short while._

_She remembered sitting by the fire and feeling the first fluttering wiggles turn into rolls and kicks and wishing it could last forever._

_She remembered the day when the finished product sat in her lap, the softest spun wool and the perfect shade of royal purple ribbon._

_She remembered the tragic news, the imminent separation of her child from her body and her child from their family._

_She remembered her heartbreak at losing her child, her only child, after only a few precious moments in her arms._

_She remembered wrapping her tiny wriggling bundle in the handcrafted blanket and sending her away in the hope that they would be reunited._

_Sending all the love she possessed to guard and cherish her first and only daughter._

 

Mary Margaret frowned to herself and shook herself out of the daydream, out of the sense-memories of someone else’s life. Placing the blanket gently back in the box, she took a deep breath and carried on to cook her dinner. Pushing away the sense that she was missing something. Something so very important. That was right in front of her eyes, something so very dear to her that she didn't know she was looking for.

Nevertheless, curled in the back of her mind fuelled by the lingering baby scent and the memory of softness under her fingertips the barely-there consciousness of Snow White remembered cradling her new born for the few precious moments she had gotten.

Her baby, that small fragile miracle she’d sent to a better world. She hoped and wished that her child would be loved and doted on and would grow healthy and strong. Snow White might not have been able to realise it yet but her baby was right there, saving them all.

Emma, the saviour, her child.


End file.
